She wasn't even supposed to be here.
Ino had been called in to cover a shift at the hospital in an on-going staffing emergency involving their lack of one apparently 'super-skilled-we-can't-function-without-her-Haruno-sensei', when it happened.
There, screaming for help in the middle of the hospital lobby was a deranged looking Sasuke, two bodies hanging off him. Ino was by his side before she even realised she had moved.
Her eyes found Sakura first. How could she not with that long carnation pink hair stained redredred. And oh Kami, why did her absurd white dress have to show so much blood?
"Get Tsunade-sama! Now!" The shout left her glossed lips a second before Sasuke collapsed onto the lily-white tiled floor.
And that was when Ino saw him.
The second body that had been flung over the Uchiha's shoulder, partially hidden behind Sakura from where Sasuke was clutching her to his chest like she was already dead.
Sai.
It was Sai!
He wasn't moving and Kami she didn't know how she could recognise him when most of his ivory skin was dyed a raw rosy red.
"Sai!"
He was in her arms in the next second, head cradled on her lap as she ran frantic green hands over his barely breathing chest; his lips tinged cornflower blue.
There was commotion around them; nurses shouting for gurneys and operating rooms to be prepped, but Ino could only pump her chakra into her boyfriend as he lay dying in her lap.
She looked up through tear-burned eyes and saw the crumpled expression of Uchiha Sasuke where he cradled her best friend, as she lay dying in his.
"Somebody get the fucking Hokage here right fucking now!"
She wasn't even supposed to be here.
He wished Temari were here. Or rather, that he was anywhere else.
Shikamaru heaved a tired sigh as he rounded the bend, two cups of black coffee already going lukewarm in his hands. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the hospital corridor he had previously just left now contained triple the people.
Ino was being comforted by Chouji, Hinata and Tenten; each of them looking just as forlorn as the next. Ino, still streaked in Sai's blood and pale blue eyes as glassy as when he'd found her. Or more accurately, when she bulldozed him in a panic shrieking at him to tell her the 'fucking truth'.
Shikamaru grimaced. Troublesome.
And there, all the way at the opposite end of the corridor was the Uchiha; once stubbornly occupying the space in solitude, now being graced with the sombre presence of one Rock Lee.
Shikamaru couldn't help the wry twitch of his lips at the unlikely pair. Where Sasuke sat unseeing at the base of a wall and covered in the collective blood of his teammates, Lee rested beside him, quiet but for his solid presence.
Shikamaru risked a glance at the double doors they had gathered outside of; spared a moment to strain his ears for any sign of an update through that tormenting shield of lime plaster.
Kami, it appeared, took pity and granted his sorry wish.
He heard the stern voice of Shizune as she demanded someone to fetch more blood, "He's not responding, he needs a transfusion now!"
He caught the rough curse of the Godaime as she yelled at someone to stop using chakra, "You're going to kill her if you do that! …She's going into shock, damnit! Sakura, stay with me!"
Several heads popped up at the muffled commotion. Then Ino's lips began to wobble and she buried her head into Chouji's chest. Hinata and Tenten shared a worried look, taking turns stroking the blonde's platinum hair as they each grasped the other's hand.
Shikamaru glanced at Lee. The green-clad man chanced a hand out to rest on the Uchiha's forearm where Sasuke was restlessly clenching his fist, head bowed and shoulders shaking.
With a grave sigh, the tactician turned on his heel and headed back the way he came. They needed more coffee… maybe something even a little stronger.
He really wished Temari were here. He couldn't afford to be anywhere else.
Genma didn't mean to find them. Not like this anyway.
He kept his footsteps light yet audible as he travelled the well-worn path and entered Shizune's office. He needed to check on her. He had been on patrol when he heard about what happened…
Neither woman stirred at his arrival. Not when he whispered his apology to the Godaime. Not when he gently tried to shake his fiancé awake from her prone position on the too small couch.
They each looked as bone-weary as the other.
"Take her home, Shiranui." The older woman croaked, dull honey eyes not leaving the glass panes of the modest window from where she stood vigil.
Genma gently crested Shizune in his arms and rose. Blood drenched her front, her once pastel blue scrubs now stained a deep rusted crimson. He imagined he'd find his Hokage in a similar state if he but looked.
A large part of him truly didn't want to. He shuffled his feet in a moment of uncharacteristic hesitance.
"Go on, Genma. I'm fine."
He risked a glance up at Tsunade's reflection where she kept her back turned, staring listlessly through the frosted glass. And it was a terrible honour to witness such a strong woman at one of her lowest. He regretted the privilege with every ounce of his being.
"Get some rest, Hokage-sama." He imparted quietly.
He was gone before he could hear the first hitch of her breath.
He didn't mean to find them. Not like this.
She opened the door with a quiet click.
Hinata blinked once around the dim lighting; her lilac gaze capturing the scene in perfect clarity and detail, despite the late hour and her red rimmed eyes.
The empty bed that stared back at her felt as bare as her soul – ghostly white and devoid of all warmth under the pale moonlight.
Her fingertips lingered at the light switch, a heaviness weighing her down as she memorised all that wasn't there. She suddenly found she didn't much have the energy to illuminate picture.
She didn't want to be reminded that Naruto wasn't here, hadn't been here.
The mournful regret was but a dull ache against everything else.
Selfishly, she felt relieved. She didn't know how he would've taken today…
Her fingertips fell from the switch to rest lightly over her stomach, a shuddered sigh escaping her.
She closed the door with a quiet click.
Lee stared blindly at his knuckles.
Where once his wrappings were white and pristine, now were drenched in the proof of his violence.
Dark coal eyes flickered up to the wooden stump before him and still he found no answers in its timber embrace.
His numb fingers curled rigidly until his fist shook weakly from his strained grip.
He could not dislodge the sorrow from his heart, try as he might to banish it away with determination and physical exhaustion as he had always done before.
It was no use.
He flexed his aching hand and watched as delicate flakes of snow drifted down to rest beautifully against the crimson of his blood.
Sakura-san would surely disapprove… were she here.
Lee stared blindly at his knuckles.
She didn't know what she was doing.
Tsunade stood upon the head of Hiruzen's stone-carved likeness and watched midnight dissipate into dawn. 'For the Village' carried in whispers on the back of the winter breeze, tickling the phantom wetness of blood under her fingernails.
Bullshit, she wanted to scream.
Sobriety stung worse than the sharp pricks behind her eyes. And still her hands shook.
Violence wasn't going to change anything. Sake wouldn't cut through her.
And sleep… Well she'd be a damn coward to try and see his face again.
She didn't deserve that comfort. Insane as the temptation was to cast herself into an illusion that wasn't today.
She had been a fool, worse she had been arrogant. And no amount of faith or stubborn blind conviction could change what had happened.
Tsunade stood over the village and wondered was it even worth it?
She didn't know what she was doing. Maybe she never had.
Yamato wasn't sure what else he could've done.
When they arrived back in Konoha – half the team, half the men – there was nothing left to do. And that, he had come to learn, was the hardest part to accept.
ANBU had been shadowing them for the last day and half on their return to the Leaf, yet even they seemed to struggle with the breakneck speed which Kakashi had set. Yamato had tried to be the voice of reason, to enforce adequate rest stops and nourishment, but his rationale could not compete with the single-mindedness which fuelled his Senpai.
Naruto was no better. And Yamato didn't have to look very far to reconcile that he was no different. Sakura would surely chew each of them out if she knew the duress they had willingly put themselves under to return. And that thought only proved to propel him further forward.
Not even the green gates of home could slow their pace.
He stuck close to Naruto and Kakashi's side as they beelined straight for hospital, not sparing a thought to check-in with the Chuunin guards. But then, Yamato supposed he could forgive them their haste. After all, he didn't bother with them either.
There was however, something to be said about the helplessness one feels when arriving on the scene after the fact. When the fighting is done, and there is nothing left to do but… move on, rebuild, mourn.
Yamato realised a little too late that he had prepared himself for that helplessness a bit better than Kakashi and Naruto ever thought to; proven by their immediate eagerness to arrive at a hospital that might contain their friends.
Or worse, not contain them at all…
A heavy dread pulled at his chest, even as keen desperation drove him forward with the rest of his teammates. Images of what they would find, what they wouldn't find spun through his mind pace for pace with his footsteps. And still, Yamato could only hold his breath as they reached those glass double doors.
Adrenaline suspended against hope as they burst inside, the calmness of the hospital lobby so at odds with their turmoil who could blame them for their momentary falter. Sweat beaded at his brow and traced rivulets down his spine, eyes wide as he scanned for threats and assessed the environment with sharp, quick glances. The hardwired search for friend or foe so automatic he didn't realise he wasn't the only one glaring at every moving thing until a child was crying.
The gasp of a civilian and smell of antiseptic was all Yamato needed to snap into his senses. His hands found the backs of Naruto's and Kakashi's shirts before either of them ran off scouring the building for a chakra signal they might not find.
It was by the thread of his strength that he found the nearest nurse and asked after his straining hope. And, for all his subconscious preparation, even he let out a breath of sheer gratitude when his worst fears remained unrealised.
No one at the hospital greeted them with sympathetic looks or consoling words, and that was enough for him. His fingers unfurled from their strained grip on Naruto and Kakashi, and Yamato was once more trailing at his teammates' heels – hands ready to catch the broken pieces before they had the chance to fall off and shatter.
It was all he could do.
But he didn't allow himself to feel relieved. Not even when the harried nurse pointed them in their teammate's direction. No. He would wait to feel his relief until he actually saw them. Whole, alive and breathing.
He would wait until he closed the door of his apartment and was alone to feel his complete, heart-wrenching relief.
They found almost the entirety of the Rookie Nine scattered around the top floor, exchanging quiet words and cradling cups of coffee to their chests; two doors on opposite ends of the hallway braced them in.
And Yamato thought it abundantly cruel that they would have to choose which teammate to see first.
Why they hadn't just placed Sai and Sakura in a room together, he would never know. Or he would. Later, he would be distressed to learn it was because they both required intensive treatment and care that warranted their own specialised rooms.
Still, he wasn't prepared for the look of utter ruin that Kakashi and Naruto both confronted him with when they realised what he had.
They had to choose. And it was going to break something in them to do so.
His hands ghosted their backs as he took a step forward, a soft smile gracing his lips as he glanced around at the rest of the Rookie Nine.
"I'm guessing it's really only one at a time." He said with assurance he simply didn't feel. "I'm going to check in with Sai. Could you check on Sakura for me? I'll be there as soon as I can. But someone should be with her, and I'm sure they could bend the rules for the Rokudaime."
For a moment Yamato thought Naruto was going to hug him, but then that blond head was nodding, tired blue eyes glassy with a fragile gratitude. "You got it, Taichou. We'll swap in a bit, yeah?"
Sympathy twisted with anxiety in his stomach, and Yamato granted him a kind nod. "Of course."
Then Naruto was hurriedly slipping inside the leftmost room and he was left standing with Kakashi.
Kakashi; who stood immobile, as though made of stone.
Yamato's gentle smile began to slip. "Senpai." He said, and it wasn't a question. It was sad resignation.
Kakashi stood, staring at Sakura's door.
Then he took a step back.
"Kakashi." He said, verging on a disapproving plea.
Silver eyes flit once to him, then over to Sai's room. Kakashi took another step back, almost a stagger.
"Look after them, Tenzou. Please." He said, eyes straying back to Sakura's room as his muscles tremored and locked. "I have to – I need to..."
Yamato stared after Kakashi as he fled. Fled straight from whatever he thought he would find on the other side of that door. Fled determinedly from relief as though he felt himself undeserving of it.
With a deep frown and weary sigh, Yamato glanced around the quiet hallway where the rest of the Rookie's had attempted to afford them some semblance of privacy.
He pretended not to notice their thoughtful looks as he wedged open Sai's door and stepped inside. Not many had the patience, the wisdom to understand Kakashi, and it broke something in him to know that Kakashi was likely praying that this time he would get to keep one of the few people who did.
Yamato shook off his melancholy and glanced up at the sight before him. Sai lay motionless and alarmingly pale against the stark white sheets, body wrapped in bandages and face adorned in shallow cuts. Some still functioning part of his brain informed him that medics usually left minor lacerations to heal on their own – a recollection of one of Sakura's many lectures in his time under her tenure.
"Intensive healings require adequate rest, Yamato-Taichou. We aren't miracle workers you know. The body needs to heal some things on its own."
Yamato blinked Sai back into focus, so peacefully rested when last he saw, his lips were pulled tight and his eyes were all but glued shut under his own blood. He shifted his gaze. Sai's right hand was being clutched by a tearful blonde – his long-term Yamanaka girlfriend. She startled as he approached and quickly wiped her red-rimmed eyes, giving him a measured once over.
"We're fine. We're back." He said to her concern and took a seat in the chair opposite. "Thank you for being here for him, Ino-san."
The Yamanaka heiress nodded once and then let her eyes stray back to her boyfriend.
Yamato followed her gaze and reached to take Sai's other limp hand in his own. Firm, warmer now than what he had been. Alive.
"We all made it back home." He breathed, squeezing the boys' hand in his own.
Yamato kept his relief suspended as he held Sai's hand and measured his heartbeat. He would keep it dutifully locked away until he could see Sakura. Until Kakashi could see Sakura.
Until his team was whole again.
He swallowed his heavy sigh, the drum of his heart slowing to a quiet march as he sat and bowed his chin to his chest.
He wasn't sure what else he could've done, when there was nothing left to do but grieve.
He couldn't breathe.
Naruto wasn't sure what he was expecting when he burst through her hospital door. But he guessed he shouldn't have been all that surprised to see Sasuke already there, sitting vigil at Sakura's side.
He straightened at his entrance, and Naruto caught the way Sasuke slipped his hand from Sakura's. But he couldn't focus on that, not when all of his attention was drawn to Sakura and the way she looked so fragile.
There was an oxygen mask fitted over her face, wires and tubes coming out of her in every direction, hooked up to machines that beeped and droned. Naruto drifted closer in a daze until he was at her side, and slumped gracelessly into the chair beside her.
He took her other hand without a moment's hesitation and gazed critically over her at a closer inspection. Her once long hair at been cut away at her chin – briefly remembering that the last time he saw her, it had been matted red with blood – likely a necessity of whatever operation she had undergone.
He frowned. Apart from her pallor complexion, Sakura looked almost as though she had no right to be where she was. There was hardly a mark on her, not a graze, not a bruise. And yet, she had never looked so damn breakable.
"How – " Naruto swallowed the roughness in his voice. "How is she?"
Sasuke stirred fractionally in his periphery and Naruto had half the mind to notice that the Teme was clean and dressed in a pair of hospital scrubs. Probably having been forced into some form of clean clothing before he was allowed to see her.
"She's alive."
He tore his eyes away from Sakura to frown at Sasuke's blank response. Weary obsidian eyes blinked back at him and Naruto decided he could forgive him for his tone. After all, Sasuke had been here. He hadn't.
"What did Baa-chan say?" He asked quietly, running his thumb over the back of her hand. She felt cool still, but Sakura-chan always had the coldest hands. The thought didn't comfort him.
"That she was lucky to be alive."
Naruto watched as Sasuke fisted his hand from where it still lay on the bed, but a centimetre from Sakura's slim hand.
"She said that Sakura was suffering acute chakra and blood poisoning. That they couldn't use any chakra to heal her, because her own core had been...damaged. They had to resort to… civilian methods." Sasuke ground out between his teeth, frustration painting his face.
Unconsciously, Naruto gripped Sakura's hand tighter, as though afraid she would slip away any second still. That fear only doubled when Sasuke flit his dark eyes up to him, his lips a straight grim line.
"She flatlined. Twice."
Naruto sucked in air and shot his attention back to his petal-haired teammate lying unmoving with only the beeps of machines to promise her continued survival; even the brightness of her hair dull, under the sterile lights.
It wasn't right. Nothing about any of this was as it should be. And he hated the undercurrent of disgrace that stuck with him like dirt under his fingernails.
They had truly failed her this time. They had fucked up so fucking bad.
Kurama's cautious rumbles were undeniable here and now, Naruto had proof right under his nose and it made him want to scream.
He couldn't feel Sakura-chan. Her chakra, her core, was dead.
We weren't enough to protect her. We couldn't even help her! And now Sakura-chan is –
"Where's Kakashi?" Sasuke suddenly asked, and it sounded so flat.
Naruto had a sinking feeling, and rubbing his thumb over Sakura's knuckles he sighed. "He's…"
There was a sniff and Naruto knew he didn't need to finish his sentence. He wouldn't claim to understand – he came to terms with Kakashi being an enigma in his life long ago – but he knew enough to acknowledge that this was just part of his process.
And Naruto thought that maybe if anyone could understand, maybe it would be the man opposite him.
"…Sometimes it's easier to care from a distance." He said to their silence, latent anger surrendering to exhaustion. "Sometimes you need a little space to come to terms with things. Especially when they hit so close to home."
He didn't need to look up to know Sasuke was staring at him with something akin to surprise and rueful acceptance. And the parts of him that wanted to rage war against his best friend for everything that had happened, were also the same parts of him that wanted nothing more than to wrap an arm around him and tell him they'd get through anything, because they'd do it together.
That was just the sort of thing Sasuke evoked in him – that hard-worn unconditional forgiveness and brotherhood. Would if he could resent such a thing when it meant so much to the both of them – endured as an extension of their very being. No matter how much hurt existed between them, they always found a way to overcome; long as the road would be, they simply had to travel it.
"In the meantime, Sakura-chan has us, right Sasuke?"
Naruto wasn't subtle about the challenge he laced through his tone, and he stared Sasuke down with nothing less than pointed invitation. He wasn't letting the Teme retreat, not this time when Sakura had become the heart of it all.
Sasuke ticked his jaw and settled his gaze back on Sakura as she lay between them; unabashedly there despite all they put her through.
Slowly, his hand moved, twitched in her direction. Long slender fingers danced against her own until finally, Sasuke had threaded his fingers through hers and held Sakura's hand.
"Aa."
It was a damn start. And despite all that lay ahead, Naruto let a smile crack his dry lips.
He could finally breathe.
He couldn't stop.
Kakashi didn't slow until the cool touch of marbled stone was beneath his fingertips.
Yet even as he stood still, his body could not stop moving. It was trembling. He was trembling.
His knees hit the icy earth with a dull thud, his head following suit to knock against the carved monument of loss.
His fingers found their names without ever needing his eyes assistance. It was a well-travelled path; a shameful comfort engraved into his muscles' memory.
He traced them over and over, repeated their names until he was short of breath. He whispered them, until the names of the dead washed away the names of the living in numb repetition; scoured him to the bone with lived-in regrets.
He had to remind himself – remind himself – that she wasn't there.
She was strong enough to break his cursed cycle. Because she was never going to settle for being a ghost in his eyes.
She was so much stronger than that. Stronger than him.
He had to believe that. He had to believe she was okay. Alive. That she wasn't going to slip away any moment still, because he got too close.
'Attachment and demise' coiled and twisted, plaiting itself into a noose around his neck, and Kakashi could only dig his fingers into the grooves of stone until pain tethered him back to the spot.
She was okay. She was okay because he had the good sense to not let her light be sucked up by his void of mistakes and misfortune. She was home now, safe.
In the end he couldn't keep his promise. The bitter parts of him that mourned his failure were infinitesimal compared to the parts of him that celebrated in cruel symmetry of who did bring her home.
Fate couldn't have been clearer. And Kakashi didn't need another lesson to accept his road in life was a solitary one.
"Please," He whispered to his ghosts. "I promise I won't forget again. Just… don't take her with you…"
He wouldn't ever risk her life on his heart again. Not when he had a lifetime worth of experience to predict the outcome of 'love'.
No. Hers was a heart captured by another's', and he had already decided he would do all in his power to protect her happiness for the rest of his days.
Kakashi selfishly chanted the names of his lost loved ones and vowed that he would never add another name ever again.
Least of all hers.
A single tear rolled down his cheek wetting the thin material of his mask; soon to be joined by two then three.
He couldn't stop.
It was habit.
Gai supposed it was also in part coincidence that he found Kakashi here, at the stone.
He picked up the pastime himself from his rival after-all. Once upon a time it was to pay tribute in Kakashi's absence; when the man was out on mission or so far withdrawn from life he couldn't make it past his own front door. Gai chose to go in his stead all those years ago, and the habit had stuck since.
His reasons had doubled after Neji, however…
But it was fortune on his part that he stumbled upon Kakashi today. He had heard about what happened from Lee, and well, Gai had come to pray to his own ghosts for their Spirits to guide and protect their Youth. He never expected…
Gai didn't move as he silently watched his best friend unravel in ways he had rarely ever seen. And he thought he understood just a little more.
A feeble smile crossed his lips even as sorrow weighed down his chest.
His dearest rival. What a lonely, stubborn fool he made.
But then, Gai supposed…
It was habit.
The days dragged.
Mornings bled into afternoon, then melted into evenings and still nothing changed. Faces blurred along with time. Nurses and 'friends of Sakura' bustling in and around with cautious hope, hands busy, smiles stagnant, like there was more to do and see than Sakura's pale features and unchanging condition.
They'd say their peace and assuage their restless waiting with promises of betterment.
"On your Youth I shall run a hundred laps of the village every day until you can do so with me!"
"Ugh. Sakura, please I can't wait for you to wake up and knock some sense into this idiot. Did you know he broke his hands again!"
"You really out did yourself this time. You so owe me, Sakura. Can't believe you left me as practical fish food for Ino and Tsunade-sama. Troublesome. Next Shogi round is on you."
They never stayed long. Not while he was there to witness every new piece of a life he never knew she had; the unending line of people who cared about her.
Naruto wore the floors thin along with them, treading the scuffed ground between rooms always with the same empty outcome, presented with strained optimism. No change. Either of them.
"But it's only a matter of time, Teme. You don't know them like I do."
Sasuke thought Naruto might've meant it as reassurance, blunt and unintended as his words were. He didn't bother trying to correct him though. It was the truth.
Sai had been put under a medically induced coma.
"Ino said his body just needed time to recover… His ass has always been so pale who could even tell when he's actually sick. But Ino's got him, so she'll let us know right away if there is any change, just like we'll let her know about Sakura!"
Sasuke didn't know the two were dating. Didn't really care in fact. He paid them little mind beyond the knowledge that Sai wasn't dead. That was good enough.
Once a day Sakura's door would be wedged open and the Hyuuga would slip in, eyes as soft as her smile as she beckoned Naruto to eat something, or get some rest. Without fail the invitation would always be extended to him, but Sasuke would merely hum and turn his attention back to the window shedding shadows over Sakura's ivory face.
Food would somehow find a way into his lap, whether it be strong-armed there by Naruto or politely outwaited by Yamato, wherein the man would stare him down until the rice was cold and his mulishness had abandoned him for tired frustration.
He ate. Sleep was less easily enforced, however.
A room had been offered.
"Hinata and I have a guest room you could use. Heh, bet you never thought I'd have a fancy guest room before you, huh Teme. That's just what marriage does to a man."
But his feet were stone and his shoulders were set; in stubbornness, or in guilt he could never quite distinguish.
So, despite the fury of the Senju woman and her ANBU staples, Sasuke stayed and watched the world turn; content to have nothing to do with it beyond the small corner he occupied in Sakura's room.
He sat with his static thoughts next to that lonely window and watched as people he once knew (and many he didn't) floated in and out of his periphery. Watched their smiles weaken the longer Sakura didn't respond, watched their tender hands brush knots of out her hair, watched their brows furrow when they would try to feel for chakra that wasn't there.
He didn't move and he didn't leave. He sat guard over Sakura in some twisted charade of protection when already the damage had been dealt. It was pointless, stupid, but he stayed. Right up until the moment Sakura's parents burst through the door on one sunny winters afternoon.
It was really only the oddly shaped, faded fuchsia hair that gave it away. That, and their pinched expressions when their glassy eyes zeroed in on the pink haired girl on the bed. Sasuke wasn't so sure he would've cared to recognise them otherwise. He stomached one moment to absorb their distress, the way they jerked to rush to Sakura's side only to see him; surprise colouring the hard tint to their eyes.
He was gone before they could find their words, scorned as they were sure to be; cowardly as he was to witness yet another person who suffered to see Sakura as she was. Where his choices had put her…
Naruto wasn't surprised to see him when he found his feet stopped outside a vibrant red door, much to his own exhausted chagrin. And the guest room was nice, with its neutral cream walls and colour-coordinated sheets and pillows. Some faint part of him scoffed at the homely yellows and sage greens which adorned the room with inobtrusive calm.
The idea that this was the Dobe's home sent his skin itching, and Sasuke had one foot out the window before he even knew he had moved. But when the crisp twilight air met his cheeks remorse was already pulling him back inside.
His feet were still stone, yet his shoulders were buckling.
The bed was too soft when he sat impassively on its edge. The covers were too smooth under his rough hand. The smells of a homecooked meal were too rich for his uneasy stomach. The quiet was too peaceful for his turbulent soul.
He felt like he was on fire.
And the days dragged.
She was home.
Low sunlight tickled her face as Sakura stepped out onto her tiny balcony, soaking up the last rays of the summer sunset. Pink strands fell in earnest around her bare shoulders, marigold freckles adorning skin she hardly let see the open air. Her bare feet were cool against the damp tiles, pot plants and a lonesome deckchair seeped through with the passing thunderstorm.
Sakura gave a wan smile at her sorry load of forgotten laundry, now all but drenched, dangling limply from the yards of ninja wire she had strung across the length of her balconette. She had completely neglected it, distracted as she was by all that had her grinning like it was festival season in her own home. She shook her head, pinching a sodden pair of socks between her nimble fingers.
But she couldn't find sense to lament.
She was home, and all was well.
Sakura took a deep drag of the lightly humid air, the rain a somewhat distant memory as it glided off the pavement of her terracotta roof, and dripped lazily from the nearby elm trees dotting the quiet streets of her home.
A light rustle of sound came from below and Sakura tilted her chin, watching a civilian couple hurry about beneath, pressing mouths to shoulders to hide gentle laughter as they hopped like children over puddles; hands chained together like daisies.
A smile found her face, and for a moment wistfulness stole her heart. She was home and all was well.
A slightly cooler gust sent a faint shiver through her, the loose straps of her flimsy yellow sundress slipping this way and that, only to hang carelessly off one shoulder. Contentment raced around her in idle strides; the feeling of a full belly, the sounds of her most precious people puttering about in her tiny apartment, the sight that was her home and everything she ever wanted in one place.
Full. Complete. Perfect.
She viewed the sun dip lower over Konoha, lush emerald eyes absorbing the vision as she let contentment settle at her back. Then came the unmistakable sound of a small crash behind her, followed by the sheepish promise, "I'll fix it right now, Sakura-chan!"
She hid her smile behind the curtain of her hair and waved a careless hand without glancing back, knowing the perpetrator carefully stomping around her living room would keep his promise if he wanted to see his next bowl of ramen.
She listened to them then. Her boys.
Yamato's stern but encouraging instructions on how to properly repair broken china with glue she didn't even know she had.
Naruto's audible pout as he grumbled about not being the only one playing 'Spin it like a Shuriken' with her grandmother's cushions.
Sai's blunt but undeniable smugness in pointing out the ways in which Naruto was simply inferior in both skills and physique when compared to his own athletic grace.
"Hn."
Sasuke's soft but recognisable one-syllable contributions, followed by a barely-there rumble of amusement. Always toing the edge of every moment with practiced ease. That melancholy sound which reverberated like a careful symphony each time she heard it. Though secretly, Sakura thought he sounded best when accompanied by the chorus of their team, amplified within the perfect acoustics of her humble little kitchen.
"Maa, I think you're doing it wrong, Naruto."
And of course, that drawl which could either sooth or ignite, tease or remedy, delivered in perfect pace and timing – the permanence of such a steadfast man as Kakashi, always bending light with dark until grey emerged. Sakura had never realised silver was such a nuanced, interesting colour until she had met Kakashi. And, some days it felt like she was still meeting him for the first time. Incomparable, impossible, Kakashi.
How she loved each of them.
It was paradise like this. Her paradise. She was home and all was well.
Satisfied as she was to linger in the soft extended goodbyes of the summer sun and damp air, a figure joined her in her quiet reprieve. She didn't turn to look, though she hardly needed to when they stepped right up next to her and let their shoulder rest against hers.
Her eyes never left the hazy seashell lilac of the horizon. Not when his hand slipped over her skin, righting the loose strap of her dress. Not when his fingers ghosted back down her arm and curled firmly around her hand. Not even when he squeezed, warmth chasing from his body to hers with familiarity and ease.
She didn't need to look because she knew who it was.
She was home and all was well. And he was here.
But as the sun slipped entirely from sight and the sky grew cool with shades of cobalt and iris, the object of her contentment grew dim. There was nothing concerning or frightening about the gentle doubt, only the niggle of a thought undefined.
A love unnamed.
Curiosity turned her head, even as faith held her smile. She knew him. She just…
Sakura blinked around the shift of light, tilting her head up to study the man beside her. She felt his smile, knew his affection as intimately as her own, and yet… His face was obscured. Not by hair or cloth, or the absences of light. Simply, indeterminate. Like a halo of distortion forbidding her from any form of recognition. He was a stranger, and yet he was everything to her.
Still concern did not come for her, even as that shadowy haze stared back. He was real, and important to her. So important. The only person she ever wanted or needed by her side. It didn't scare her that his features were hidden, not when he held her hand like that; fixed so perfectly within her own, familiar and present and home. She trusted this man. Knew this man. Loved this man.
She was home and all was well and he was here and –
Voices filtered into white noise as Sakura stared raptly at her familiar stranger; the ebb and flow of his presence startling her into concentrated determination.
'I know him, dammit… He's – He's…'
Unbidden, her right hand reached out, delicate fingers stretched to make form of his beautiful face.
She knew him. She loved him!
They were home and all was well and they –
She felt the heat of his palm burning through her, so real it made her blood rush and her head light. Sakura blinked, straining for clarity – for the hint of a nose, the flash of an eye, the colour of their hair – but all that came for her was discomfort.
Soft and distant at first. A low buzz in the back of her brain, a dull ache in her stomach. Her blood was becoming slow, her head becoming heavy. A coldness slipped over her skin; a warning, a sign. She frowned after the out of place sensations, a desperate hand still reaching for a face that simply wouldn't show itself.
Then she felt the pull; insistent, firm. She couldn't stay here any longer, yet she didn't want to leave. Not yet. Not before –
Shadows swarmed around her as her perfect world fell peacefully into nothingness, without a fight, without a sound.
"No wait. Please. Don't go!"
Her hand swiped straight through air and suddenly where a dark haze had been engulfing her vision, stark white came for her in multitudes.
It was not peaceful, it was not even mildly gentle in its reach.
No, reality came for her as it always did.
With a sharp strike through her chest; violent and unforgiving.
A groan stumbled out her mouth before her eyes could even think to readjust to the lime plaster she knew so well once upon a time. The pain was unreal and Sakura screwed her eyes back shut when nausea raced through her. It was all she could do to focus on the warmth that hadn't left her palm, even awake.
He was here! He was still here and she knew him and all she had to do was look!
Sakura didn't realise she was whimpering until another hand was being pressed to her forehead and voices were arguing in hushed panic about nurses and help and 'hurry the hell up! Can't you see she's in pain!'
Through it all, that palm burned through her like a lifeline. And she flexed weak fingers over it in relentless search for comfort, where everything else was an unbearable existence.
She was home. And he was real.
There was a sudden slam of the door and without her permission her eyes flew open, her neck weakly tearing after the jarring sound.
But then a face was in her blurry sights, his hand crested at her brow, stroking oh so tenderly her heart gave a weak lurch. His palm – that had been warming her with promises of unconditional devotion, of tender care and ceaseless days of comfort – held in hers.
And Sakura let the tears fall freely when she recognised him.
That beautiful straight tan nose.
The flash of tearful sapphire eyes.
The colour of his ridiculous blond mane.
Naruto; grinning at her like a piece of his heart had been returned.
Unmistakable permanence in her life… the face of a man who always came back to her.
The man whose dream's she knew she would die for – had been ready to die for countless times over.
Yet – through the unearthly pain, the waking agony – Sakura couldn't understand why all she felt was disappointment at seeing his radiant face.
Like a piece of her heart, lost.
He wasn't him... She didn't even know who 'he' was anymore.
And that was what drove her to tears more than any physical hurt or affliction.
I don't understand. I don't… understand.
She was alive, and yet she had never felt so much like dying.
"Sakura-chan?"
Naruto was okay, he was here, and yet she had never felt so alone.
What's wrong with me…?
Natural, instinctive she reached for her chakra. She didn't mean to, or maybe she did. The black hole of nothingness that met her reach sucked the air out of her, and Sakura couldn't help her sharp gasp.
Like extracting a knife from a punctured artery, the damage overflowed, painting everything in the red of her mistakes, of her choices, of reality. No number of bandages could soak up the mess, could stop the flow when her hands were tied and she couldn't make out the wound from the blood.
What have I done?
She closed her eyes to Naruto's troubled gaze and bit her lip through the rapid distortion of her waking nightmare.
What have I done, what have I done, what have I done.
Sakura quickly cried herself back to sleep, confusion and shame hedging her in until her dreams were colourless and her hands were cold.
She didn't know what that emerging hollowness in her was, only that it had made a home in her heart.
Yeah. She was home now.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
A/N: This is a shockingly short chapter from me. I know. But it's designed as that kind of interlude/limbo. The calm after the storm where everyone stands still and reconciles with the recovery ahead.
Your cheeky fun fact for this chapter is: Sakura's passage is kind of a free for all interpretation. In case you're wondering it was the dream genjutsu Ara had put her in. She wove Sakura's 'sweetest dream' and the tragedy of our girl is that she doesn't know what is at the heart of her heart anymore. Maybe she never did. Lots of ways you could read into it, different 'Him's' and such. Choose your own adventure so to speak ahaha.
I always love hearing your thoughts! Much love team!